#badge
Have you heard
The news
So blue it’s black
So sad its not even tragic
These stories
Theses tales
From Virginia
From a Birmingham jail
This is America
This is right now
This is how it always has been
We just refused to listen
Just another victim
To a broken system
Sure it feels better to be numb
But it doesn't feel good
We all get tired from staying woke
but how can you sleep
With death at your backdoor
Holding a badge and a gun
No warrant
Warrants this kind of response
Where is the revolution
If its not being televised
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 9:09 PM UTC
They,
they call me greedy,
exclusive,
taciturn. . .
That I've learned
from my disease
--chronic listening--
which voices
I'd rather not hear.
Most of these sing song smiley faces
beat you to the punch as if they're racing
past you after a ******* badge.
You want a badge?
Well good for you.
Go online and buy one.
They said "spill your guts"
And So you spill out ********
Thinking that you're making friends,
while I'm hard pressed to believe you
would be believed by anyone worth friending.
You want a badge? Good for you!
I'll make you a deal if you decide to buy one.
I'll pay the cost for the custom laser engraving:
"Sheriff Big **** in the land
of "No One Gives A ****
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC
Full of wrinkle and ridges,
It has a face of it’s own.
Is not appealing to look at,
and it rests on my shoulder bone.
Like a little tilted crown just resting there,
I kind of like it, when they stare.
Even though not in the way that I would want,
but it gets me attention anyway,
so why wouldn’t I flaunt?
I’m so proud of this part of me,
because it’s a reflection,
and also a memory.
When I look down at it, I smile,
It’s been the best statement to make,
it’s always in style.
Who knew I would grow to love tea so much,
especially after what it did to me,
well, I started to love what it left me with too,
a dauntingly beautiful scar, that is such.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 6:36 AM UTC
In December of '64,
40 years ago,
I was sitting in the Hacienda bar
on the South Side
of things
and here comes this cocker
spaniel looking
************ named
Roosevelt.
This man-man slides
in, slaps Sam Cooke on the juker,
then claps my clock with
a ************* billiards ball.
On the floor ****
tasting tooth..
It was my 33rd birthday,
but as God had-had it,
it was also Roosevelt's.
And that motherfucker-man
had been drinking
bumpy face
and smoking jazz cigarettes
since 10 o'clock
in the morning.
Let's pause. Now. Now.
Now.
Now-you may be asking
yourself what a man like me
did to deserve this disrespect-
(Grins. Sips his drink.)
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
A massive sea beast came to die.
It lumbered up and lopped down
on the docks of a grey castled city.
It’s arc heaved as it breathed
the damp sea vapors.
A final groan echoed from
the core of its heaped flesh.
One bulbous eye peered dead
deep into the wet night sky.
The gulls found it first.
Then the fishermen,
while making morning rounds.
Then the young,
then the curious,
even the lords came
to mend the unsevered.
The beast lay still.
The gulls were scattered by
the fishermen’s discipline.
The young found new spectacle around them.
The curious began to plan.
Some saw the meat.
Some saw their signs.
Others wanted it destroyed,
burnt immediately.
“Let’s be done with it!”
they said.
The lords quoted and pointed,
like they do.
The beast did not move.
A merchant arrived.
He owned the docks.
He had dominion.
“It is mine!”
he declared
“Go home!”
Embarrassed, the lords cowered and mumbled.
The curious shouted and bared their teeth.
The fishermen took sides,
the young stayed quiet,
and the gulls watched
the flames from afar.
A rain came.
The merchant,
the lords,
the curious,
the fishermen,
the young,
and even the gulls
all sprinted for shelter.
But the beast . . .
Rain became storm.
The horizon was hazed
by the mighty torrent.
But the beast . . .
Storm became tempest.
The sea swelled and smashed
against the city’s north wall.
But the beast . . .
Tempest became wrath.
Scythes of lightning set ablaze
the flags atop the tallest towers.
But the beast . . .
And wrath became the toothed face of a new god.
But still the beast . . .
remained where it was.
Nothing was said, nothing was heard
as the rain beat down on the oily carcass,
washing it clean.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
And Now . . .
as you figure
Out how I
Got in . . .
(don't forget)
at some point
You will have
To figure . . .
. . . How I Got Out.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC